A segway [sic] to class discrimination

Whilst travelling for work last month, I viewed a story on CNN about a man whose condo complex was going to deny him the use of his Segway! (If you didn't know, I love dudes riding Segways, especially cops.) Fortunately for all of us, they came to their senses. Initially, the condo management claimed the rolling wonder of physics "endangered lives", but they "failed to prove their case". Apparently, their attempts to throw people in front of the old dude's ride caused nothing but tread burns and husky apologies. Stanley Blumenthal: Jubilant!

In other news, I had several funny moments on a Continental flight from Newark to Chicago a few weeks ago (air travel story...big surprise). Most of you know that many airlines are charging $15 for any checked bag now. And most of the airlines that are charging $15 for a checked bag call it the "first checked bag charge", or simply "checked bag charge". We get it - we're being charged to give you the suitcase which, by law, cannot be taken on the plane with us. Fine.

But not Continental. Continental Airlines not only takes your $15, but they cause you to examine your life and all its mistakes and confusion. The official name for the charge?

"Excess Baggage Fee"

I am not making this up. This fee is not for your 2nd, 3rd, or eleventeenth bag. For your first bag. Your one and only suitcase, maybe. But you should pay for that one suitcase, as it is clearly and in all contrast to proper travel decorum, excessive. And you should be reminded of that fact in print.

"How's that new passenger, Continental? Your relationship growing?"
"Yeah, Delta, I guess so. He's pretty great - sits where he's assigned, always finds an efficient space for his carryon in the overhead compartment, keeps his iPod volume at a respectful level. But he's got some...baggage."

If you peruse Continental's website, the "excess baggage" term simply applied to heavy/oversize bags in the past, and the fine was much more for those indiscretions. But the gadget in their system that applies fees and prints your receipt for you wasn't worth changing, I guess, so your check-in screen and receipt are there to remind you of all the burdens and toiletries you're lugging along in this crazy, mixed up world.

As if this wasn't enough, I then had to endure an actual case of class discrimination by Continental's award winning cabin staff, North America's best. Maybe I was more sensitive to the situation than normal. I was, after all, engrossed in Sinclair's The Jungle, empathetic to Jurgis's unending struggle against the corporate machine and all its political and social injustice. It came down to the one simple amenity that even airlines haven't chopped: The Lavatory. I had patiently waited through some turbulence, and finally the seat belt sign was off. I looked back to the tail of the airplane (I was in row 7, just 5 rows back from the small First Class section) to see a small line gathered near the lavatories - both occupied - as well as the clattering beverage carts being prepared for service. Earlier at the airport, I had downed an afternoon coffee as well as a bottle of water, but was in a hurry-up mode once I reached the gate, and boarded without making a pit stop.

Boldly, I stepped through the curtain separating Coach from the First Class section. And really - do airlines need to patronize us by calling our section "Coach"? Like we're duped into thinking our rigid, leg-roomless, disease-carrying fabric-wrapped seats are some sort of hired transport in the olden days? Anyway, the forward lavatory is clearly empty, and I'm clearly going to use it.

The forward attendant, a foot shorter than I, literally steps in front of me and says, "Sir, would you mind using the rear lavatories?"
"Yes, I would. It's busy and the carts are going to block me anyway."
"No, I see that the carts are still being prepared. You'll have time to get back to your seat."

I really wanted to come up with a smart, sure, even aggressive statement to get by her, but all I mustered was a roll of the eyes and a quick turn. At this point, I noticed my surroundings - a grand total of EIGHT people in this section, all occupied in the Wall Street Journal or sleeping, and one lavatory, vacant. My churning brain did some quick 737 math, and realized there were about 140 people in Coach for the two lavatories there. 8:1 vs. 70:1. This operation would've taken me no more than a minute, and not one of the people would've even noticed!

I shuffled my way down to the rear and, of course, had to step into a vacant seat (whose occupant was in line for the lavatory) to let the beverage cart by. GRRRRRR! And more of coursely, upon my return, had to ask the beverage cart wranglers to push it up a few rows so I could get into my seat. As I was standing there, I shot that forward attendant's eyes the nastiest glance I could generate, which unfortunately appeared to her as nothing but a calming field of blue ice. (nothing I can do about that, right ladies?)

All the fees, fares, taxes, and leg cramps in the world can be explained and even understood by this traveller. But lavatory restrictions based on your seat assignment when all logic and circumstance show a better solution? Sheer madness.

I'd like to apologize for the overuse of links in the first paragraph, especially for a silly story about a Segway, a vehicle which I have never commandeered, despite my distant fascination.

Some recent pics

I've been a bad updater of late, though my little notebook of potential blog subjects is loaded. Just one of those times where life, work, kids, and home are enough to fill my time and then some.

Check out the pics, including me on a Wheaties box and lots of cute kids. Click on the little word bubble to see the captions.

Where's Stizl?

Well, I'm in Orlando now, and leave for Baltimore tomorrow. But first a little rewind. As predicted, last week ended much better than it began. Chicago proved a fantastic host in many ways, and ORD couldn't even dampen the trip. We had a large group from corporate for the Chicago meeting on Thursday, so Wednesday was Big Dinner time. Went to Gibson's, near ORD. AWESOME steak. Plus, one of our field personnel swore up and down that Martin Scorsese was in the restaurant. It was totally not him, but it was funny watching her talk herself into it. Something about that Wednesday dinner and socializing led us into a great meeting on Thursday. Chicago's franchisees can be a tough crowd for our company, but we handled them well. I really hit my stride as a presenter/facilitator during my hour of the meeting, even dropping a personal anecdote about my wedding (awwww). Seriously though, just chatting about anything other than the content of the meeting helps me relax, and then I cover the content better, too.

[aside]
I haven't watched much of the MLB playoffs, but with only a few highlights last night and currently glancing at the 1st inning of the ALCS, I have seen nothing but Tampa Bay Rays' batters smashing huge home runs over the Green Monster. What happened to home field advantage, Chowds?
[end]

Thursday night provided a new Chicago experience of EPIC proportions. Dave & Heidi (my bro- and sis-in-law) -- well, mostly Dave -- decided it was time to welcome me to the world of Gene & Jude's, a strangely famous hot dog stand. Yes, hot dog stand. I can't consider it a restaurant, even though it had 4 walls and a ceiling. This place was a tin can with a neon sign, a potato cutter, and a line of 8 fryers. It is nothing but those skinny Vienna hot dogs & fries (well, tamales too, but I wasn't in the mood). And NO ketchup. For each ketchup you ask for, they kill you.

On Dave's advice, I went with 2 double dogs with everything and a Coke. This is the great part: the dogs come piled with the fries on top. So you order 2 dogs, and you also get 2 orders of fries! This should be standard in any restaurant! And you must eat them all together, the fries essentially a condiment for the hot dogs, smashed into the bun. I started picking fries off the top of the first one, and Dave almost backhanded me for insulting the G&J culture. I guess it's like ordering philly cheese steaks in Philly - you gotta know the culture. So I crushed those 2 double dogs, standing at the counter like a champ.

I just realized that I had 2 distinct dinners in Chicago, and I spent 200 more words on the hot dog stand than on the critically adored steakhouse. Such is life.

Orlando hasn't been that interesting - hot & muggy & rainy. So-so meeting, sort of dull. But the biggest thing is it's only Tuesday, and it feels like I've been gone a week again already. The weekend was nice (time with the wife, beers with the boys, didn't watch Michigan lose to the Toledo Rocket-football team), but it flew by, and heading to the airport again early Monday was miserable. I just want this week to be done, so I can go home for the weekend...again...and leave on Monday again...

Schmotel

How can the littlest amenities become wondrous luxuries? When a hotel fails to meet even the most basic of those needs and lets you walk across the street to another hotel! We held our meeting at a hotel in Romulus, near DTW (Detroit airport). I think its exact location was Runway B3. Anyway, this hotel worked out very well last April, and it has a great banquet room. Unfortunately, within 5 minutes of checking in I had deduced that about 80% of the TV channels were blank and their free internet service was down. We were assured it would be fixed, and went to the hotel restaurant for dinner -- a group of 6 of us. Apparently they were only expecting 4 patrons for the entire night, because they ran out of french fries and turkey - on just our table. And only 1 guy ordered turkey.

This hotel was operating on fumes.

Fortunately, the Courtyard by Marriott across the way had rooms, and that's where things got back to good. Functioning television, immediate internet connection, smiling front desk staff who provided chilled bottled water (fancy!), those great Speakman shower heads, a comfortable bed and pillows, on and on. Are these things necessities? No, but I'm a business traveller this week, and when all the fun and games are done, I need to check email and watch stuff. That's it. That's all.

To the other hotel's credit, our meeting room was accommodating, functioning, and lunch was actually quite good. They even had sliced turkey. Maybe it was because we gave them a dinner tab or had a banquet room booked, but we were alarmed at how casually they let us check out and move to another hotel last night -- no questions, no attempt at concession, no timetable for hiring a network controller. Oh well.

Off to Chi-town tomorrow. Better hotel and better food culture. I'm expecting improvement...at least until O'Hare gets involved. Good night then!

Seatbelt update

If you haven't read about the Seatbelt Shot, consider yourself lucky. It hit me last week that I hadn't tried it since then, so after I picked the kids up from daycare the other day, I tried it about 5 or 6 times -- never got close. The kids also thought I had suddenly become entirely inept, mechanically speaking. (In reality, I'm only MOSTLY mechanically inept).

It just proves that the Seatbelt Shot is something to be admired and treasured. Feared even.